The Winner Takes It All
by Blinded Ryter
Summary: The winner takes it all, and the loser will fall. Brendon won and took everything; Ryan lost, fell,...and went blind. Rydon. Slash.


**The Winner Takes It All**  
_By Blinded Ryter_

I - "Red"

Ryan Ross was tired.

He was tired of playing these games.  
He was tired of being moved from black to white squares.  
He was tired of being a toy, a mouse, a pawn.

Ryan was sick of being the loser.

Brendon Urie was amused.

He was amused by how Ryan continued to play with him.  
He was amused by how Ryan could be so easily manipulated.  
He was amused by how Ryan always lost every round.

Brendon loved being the winner.

Ryan didn't understand why Brendon continuously hurt him with actions, with words, with silence...and all of this led to why Ryan even _stayed_ with Brendon. Anyone in their right mind would have left Brendon years ago after giving Brendon a good strike across the face, but no, Ryan Ross remained by Brendon's side. Ryan could feel the shackles latched around his wrists, but they were invisible. He couldn't see them, but he could feel them.

Ryan was chained by...love.

It was love that made Ryan always smile warmly at Brendon.  
It was love that made Ryan fall into Brendon's arms during Disney movies.  
It was love that made Ryan capture Brendon's lips in a kiss at any given moment.

It was that very love that motivated Ryan to pray to God to forgive Brendon every night.  
It was that very love that caused Ryan to sleep and cry alone on the sofa for nights.  
It was that very love that would be the death of Ryan.

Eventually, Ryan began wondering if there was even anything left of Brendon to love.

Was there ever true warmth in his smiles? Kindness in his heart? Tenderness in his touch?

Ryan used to believe that he belonged in Brendon's arms, but with time and with anguish Ryan came to realize that the embraces, the kisses, the sweet words were _nothing! Nothing at all!_ Nothing, but the cards, the jacks, the dice Brendon played.

One moment, Brendon would be doting upon Ryan excessively, and the next minute he would ignore Ryan entirely.

From moments to minutes, from minutes to hours, from hours to days.

On and off.  
On and off.  
On and off.

Love and ignore.  
Love and hurt.  
Love and ignore _and_ hurt.

Ryan didn't know what and when everything went wrong, but he was the only one aware of it. Everyone believed that Ryan and Brendon were the perfect and ideal couple. Even Spencer, Ryan's best-friend since high school, was blind to just how much Ryan was suffering, but Ryan never said a word, or faltered when smiling.

Soon, he was looking at himself in the mirror with despair and grief. At first, Ryan would stand before the bathroom mirror just staring at himself with doe brown eyes that lost their scintillated luster, and brilliant shine. His lips appeared as if they had not smiled in ages, and his face was slowly losing color.

As time past, Ryan grew aware of the dark shadows beneath his eyes. Then, it was his face that went gaunt. A few days later, he noticed that his clothes were looser than usual. As Ryan ran his fingers down his too pale face, he could feel hot and scorching rage flare within him before he glared at his own reflection, and wished that the man in the mirror could drop dead, and wither into dust.

And then, Ryan could see that when he stepped back from the mirror, there was no life about him. He looked tired. Weary. Sick. Dead.

Who killed him?

Why, Brendon did.

Brendon and the blonde whore he shagged a few nights ago at a party.

It wasn't that Ryan heard about this from someone else, but he witnessed a portion of the ordeal himself.

Feeling uncomfortable in an environment where everyone was smashed, stoned, high, and/or wasted to the extreme, Ryan, a straight-edge person, wanted to leave. The heavy stench of alcohol, and suffocating fumes of the cancer sticks, shrooms, weed, and God-knows what else they had here reminded Ryan of his father a bit too much.

Needing to escape, Ryan began searching for Brendon who dragged Ryan here (unwillingly) in the first place. After wandering around, and stepping over drunken bodies, Ryan found his boyfriend in the guest bedroom upstairs. Once Ryan opened the door, he immediately regretted doing so.

Brendon was hovering above some whore of a chick on the floor with the majority of their clothes tossed aside. Those hands that used to caress Ryan's cheek so lovingly, or card through his hair slowly were in places that made Ryan's guts churn sickeningly. Ryan was frozen under the opened doorway as his mind was wiped blank.

The state of daze shattered when Brendon screamed that _whore's_ name, and not Ryan's.

And then, Brendon's wild eyes met Ryan's glistening ones.

Choked with emotion, Ryan said nothing.

Ryan didn't remember if Brendon looked smashed or not.  
Ryan didn't even remember how he got away from the room, how he got out of the house, or how he returned to the flat.

The only thing Ryan remembered that night was running, crying, falling, and swearing at God.

Ryan wasn't drunk.

He was broken. Hurt. Betrayed. Cheated upon.

And so, Ryan returned to the flat. _Their_ flat. Brendon's _and_ Ryan's flat. This was a place that used to be full of warmth, delights, and joy. Ryan glanced at the sofa where Brendon initiated their first kiss, then looked to the window sill seat where they would sit together gazing out at the night when it snowed.

This place used to be home  
But now, it was a prison.

A cold and dark prison where silence reigned king.

When Ryan suddenly grew aware of the silence, the lack of voices, laughter, giggles, and teases he brought his hands to his head, and let out a distorted scream. The emotions and poison he kept pent up in his chest for so long finally escaped through his voice that bounced off the walls, and pierced his ears.

Ryan didn't stop there. He lowered his hands from his head, and stormed into the bathroom. Flicking the brilliant lights on, Ryan turned to glare at the mirror with all the hatred and odium he could muster. Ryan gripped the edge of the sink before screaming his lungs out at the mirror where his reflection fought right back at him.

_"It's all your fault!"_ Ryan shouted vehemently, his hair falling into his eyes, and giving him a deranged look. "Father was right! Everything is your fault! Mother's dead, because of _you!_ Father's dead, because of _you!_ _**It's all your fault!"**_

Ryan took a step back to let out another violent out cry. He paused as he breathed heavily before raising his dangerously flickering eyes at his reflection again.

"There's something wrong with you," Ryan growled as he clenched his hands into fists. "Look at how ugly, how skinny, how pale, how horrible you are! You're not good enough! If you were good enough, this wouldn't be happening! You're not good enough, Ryan Ross! _**You're not good enough!"**_

Ryan began banging his fists against the mirror that night as tears streamed down his face. The mirror began to tremble, and the walls began to shake. Ryan's fists were soon turning livid colors, but he only struck at the reflection harder and faster.

Ryan struck at his own ugly face, his own fat body, his horrible reflection over and over and over-

Until the glass shattered.

Ryan remembered hearing the delicate breaking of glass, and a blood curdling scream, but he saw nothing.

Nothing, but red.

Vermilion, crimson, scarlet…

Shades of red that soon turned **black.**

**---**

_Blinded Ryter: _Thank-you for reading (: This is one of my free-verse/paragraph stories. Every user on Mibba have expressed their hatred towards Brendon as the story carries on, so feel free to flame and bash the Brendon in this story xD Feedback is greatly appreciated!


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